


The Chief Investigator Dries Up

by amyfortuna



Series: Silmread Ficlets [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bag End, Eavesdropping, Ficlet, Gen, Lawnmowing, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: Sam’s perspective on Frodo and Gandalf’s conversation inThe Shadow of the Past.





	

The day was sunny and the the grass on the lawn of Bag End was green and growing after a mild rainstorm the evening before. Sam set out with his shears and the lawnmower after breakfast, bent on trimming it back. He could hear the murmur of low voices coming through the open window. Frodo and Gandalf seemed to be having quite a serious and involved discussion. The low rumble of Gandalf’s voice, explaining, and Frodo’s higher tones, expressing surprise or asking questions, interspersed with the sound of his mower as it trimmed the grass, for some time.

Sam was listening, but trying very hard not to be obvious about it. He had been involved in ‘the conspiracy’ as Merry and Pippin called it, for a good few years now, and they had collected a great deal of information about the Ring, about Bilbo’s journey – Merry had once managed a peek at Bilbo’s diary – and about Frodo’s strange inheritance. The mystery of Bilbo’s disappearance was no longer a mystery at all, save for how the Ring managed it. From time to time Sam longed to tell his father, or the assembled gatherings at the Green Dragon, just exactly what was going on, when the speculation about Frodo’s 'queerness’ and that of Bilbo before him got a little too unkind or too invasive, but he’d never said a word so far.

What he was hearing now was hardly comprehensible. Bilbo’s Ring – Frodo’s now – the Dark Lord’s possession? Something about Elves making rings of power. Only dragonsfire could melt the rings, except for a fiery mountain somewhere far away.

He put the mower away in the little shed around the back of the Hill, then came back to the lawn, wiped his brow, picked up his shears and began trimming the verge. He could still hear their voices, but they were more faint, and after a few minutes, he noticed that the shutters over the window had been pulled to cover it, though the window itself was still open. He couldn’t hear much, and quickly completed the job of trimming the grass border.

The Gaffer came out of his hole, and Sam glanced up with a wave to his father, who gestured to him to come down. Sam set his shears aside, and ran to see what his father needed.

After giving the Gaffer a hand with lifting a half-barrel of potatoes into the cellar, he walked back up to Bag End again to retrieve his shears. He was whistling as he went; it was a fine day even if the words he had overheard were dark. It was impossible to believe in things like Dark Lords, evil Rings, and fiery mountains on a day like today.

The shutters were open again, and Sam bent to pick up his shears.

“ _…The Ring will not be able to stay hidden in the Shire for much longer_ ,” he heard Gandalf say. “ _For your own sake, as well as for others, you will have to go…._ ”

Sam dropped to his knees, shears beside him in the grass. A small choked noise issued from his throat.


End file.
